


Hold It Hidden

by rosewindow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - FBI, F/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FBI Agent Scott McCall hates three things: suits, mingling, and undercover ops. Unfortunately all three collide while he's investigating a string of serial killings going back two decades. And will he blow his cover for the alluring Ms Allison Argent?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold It Hidden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abrokenkindofperfect (hockeycaptains)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeycaptains/gifts).



> Written for abrokenkindofperfect for the Teen Wolf Rarepair Exchange. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> The title is from The First Time I Held A Gun (After Anis Mojgani), by Clementine von Radics.
> 
> Thanks to boxoftheskyking for betaing!!

Scott hates wearing suits, absolutely hates it. Most days at the Bureau he can get away with slacks and a button down, but every job has a different set of requirements and this one requires a suit. It also requires him to make a pass at every woman he sees as he walks through the huge office-complex-cum-mall, even though it kills him. He can feel his mother’s judgement from across state lines. There are several things he doesn’t like about working at the Bureau, but undercover ops have always been near the top of his list. At least he’s got good people on this one.

Lydia’s been set up with a tiny room in the security office. It’s really more like a closet. He knocks on the door lightly and leans in.

“I like the digs,” he says teasingly.

She huffs. “Come in.”

He drops into the other chair and kicks the door shut. The second the latch clicks, he drops the persona. “How’s the department treating you?”

“Well enough. How are you and Stiles settling in?”

“Fine. He’s got his command center all set up, so it’s a little crowded, but it’s all good. He’s got his Walls up too.”

Lydia sighs. Stiles’s Walls of Evidence are infamous and the amount of money he requisitions purchasing colored string is a little ridiculous. This case has two decades of evidence and information, so he’s got plenty to fill them with. The current case is only two weeks old, but the local police think it’s connected to two previous strings of murders from ten and twenty years ago respectively. Both cases involved at least a dozen dead over three month periods and they’re trying to get ahead of the curve on this one. Hence the presence of Lydia and her team.

“Alright. The office parties are every Thursday and you will be there from start to finish looking for any possible suspects or victims. Stiles and I will focus on interviews and the profile. I’ll keep you updated.”

Scott can tell when he’s being dismissed, so he gets up to leave.

“Be safe, Scott. Keep your head,” Lydia says, and Scott grins at her.

“Always do.”

\---

Scott’s never really been one for mingling, but since both of the previous victims were last seen at the weekly company get togethers here he is, soda in hand, pretending to have the time of his life. Stiles and Lydia are still working on a more specific profile, but he’s already starting to form an image of the type he’s looking for. The two victims so far have been alpha male types, and Scott is guessing there’s an angry, bullied office worker playing out a revenge fantasy. Though the previous strings of murders are complicating that theory a bit.

Scott is here as another set of eyes, and - honestly - bait. They’ve already upped the security presence at all functions as well as around the mall, and a few other officers are doing the plainclothes thing too. Scott spots a promising looking couple and drifts closer to listen in. A girl intercepts him.

“You’re new,” she says.

“Just got hired,” he replies, nodding. Then, remembering his persona, “I like it. The girls here are cute.”

She laughs lightly and draws him into a conversation. He gives her practiced answers; Scott Howard, Marketing, studied business in college, plays lacrosse on a local pick-up team. She introduces herself as Allison Argent, works in the PR department, double majored in French and History, and just transferred from Marketing.

“We must have just missed each other, but I had to leave. I didn’t like the team dynamic and the boss could be a real creep.”

Something about that rings a bell, but Scott can’t place it at the moment. He forces himself to look away and scan the party, but his attention keeps drifting back to Allison.

“You want to get out of here?” she asks, leaning close. “Maybe get a coffee?”

Scott is torn. On the one hand, the party’s winding down, so he could get away with leaving and he really does want to go with her, but he’s an _undercover FBI agent_. Which reminds him, he ought to be keeping up with his character, and his character would definitely respond to a pretty girl asking him out.

“I’d love to get a coffee with you,” he leers.

She blinks in surprise, but then a smile slips onto her face. “Sounds great.”

And now Scott’s internally panicking. Allison is unlike anyone Scott’s ever met. He’s only known her about fifteen minutes, but he’s already wondering how pissed Lydia and Stiles would be with him if he told her who he was and dropped his undercover persona. It’s slipping a little bit though; he’s good, but it’s hard to maintain a cover that is so opposite his own personality. He plays up the Alpha Male routine as they leave the party and the office. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the killer will follow him out - and hasn’t already chosen another victim while he was distracted.

Allison takes him to a quiet little cafe with apartments above it. “I live right upstairs,” she says with a smile. “And my roommate’s not in tonight.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to see your place. It’ll be - cozier.”

It’s a small apartment, but very nice. After closing the door - and locking it, Scott notes - she crosses to the kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?”  
“Water’s fine.”

Allison places the glass in his hand and sits down close to him on the sofa. She has to move a book to do so, and Scott grins at the cover.

“Oh, that’s a great version of Ovid. Lombardo does the best translations.”

Allison looks surprised. “Yeah, it is really good.”

That leads to a conversation about myths, which leads to one about philosophy, which leads to politics, and before Scott realizes it, it’s two in the morning and he really needs to get some sleep.

“I probably need to go, but I had a lovely time tonight,” he says, rising stiffly from the couch.

“Yeah,” Allison says, voice pleasantly surprised. “It was great. You’re an interesting guy, Scott.”

“I hope I see you around,” he smiles, and she smiles back.

“For sure.”

\---

“The pattern’s changed; I wonder why.”

Scott’s still on his first coffee, so he doesn’t respond to Stiles. He’s not as young as he used to be and he’s still exhausted from his long conversation with Allison.

Stiles on the other hand has been awake for hours. The previous two victims were both found by security arriving for the morning shift so he’s been up and caffeinated since then, waiting for a call to come in. It hasn’t yet.

“Maybe they know we’re here?”

“No. No, I think that would spur them on. Increase the killings. They’re clearly doing this to make a statement.”

He taps a pen against his teeth and Scott has to laugh at the fact that he’s got another one behind each ear and more stuffed in his shirt pocket.

“Here. Let me take a look.”

He and Stiles spend the whole weekend going over the evidence again and again, making and remaking the Walls. They don’t find anything new, but it’s nice spending time with his best friend again.

\---

Scott next sees Allison in the elevator hall on Tuesday. She’s on the phone and looking harried.

“Look, I _know_ it’s important. Do you really think I don’t? It was one time, Mom.”

She paces back and forth, looking exceptionally elegant in a sundress and blazer.

“Of course. Of course. No! There’s no need to come down. I can do this, and tell Aunt Kate the same.”

She hangs up sharply and sighs.

“Hey,” Scott says. “Everything alright?”

She looks up in surprise and guilt. “Oh, hello, Scott. No, everything’s fine. My family’s just worried about me living in the city.”

He nods. “My mom’s the same way. I keep reminding her I’m thirty, but I think family always just sees you as a little kid.”

Allison laughs. “Definitely. I’m pretty sure my family is convinced I’ll never be able to make it on my own.”

“Well, I haven’t known you that long, but it looks like you’re doing pretty amazing to me.”

“Thank you for that. It means a lot.” She smiles at him and squeezes his arm, and Scott is warmed by the contact.

\---

The next Thursday, Scott leaves the party just as it’s shutting down. He hasn’t seen Allison in two days, so he decides to swing by her apartment on his way back to the hotel. Her light is on, so he climbs the stairs and knocks on her door.

There are muffled noises as someone moves around inside, and then Allison pokes her head out of the door. “Oh.”

She steps fully into the hall, and as she squeezes out of the room, Scott catches sight of a guy with his head lolled on the back of the sofa. She laughs awkwardly. “Kira’s friend isn’t feeling well, so we’re keeping an eye on him. I really shouldn’t leave him alone. What’s going on?”

“Oh. Just, uh, wanted to say hello really.”

“Sorry it’s not really a great time. I’ll see you Monday?”

He’s barely nodded before she slips back into the room, and with one final image of the guy waving vaguely, the door closes in his face.

\---

The next time he sees that face it’s staring up at him, blank-eyed, from an autopsy table.

“Scott? You okay, buddy?”

Scott shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. “Yeah. Yeah, just, I know that guy. Or, I saw him - once.”

Stiles frowns.

“You’ll have to make a statement, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott waves away the worry on his friend’s face. “I’ll go call Lydia right now.”

\---

“I found a connection! Well, not between all three victims, but the last two both had complaints against them by women who worked in their offices. Both women were transferred out or left soon after.”

Something pings in Scott’s memory. “Where did the first guy work?”

“Uh,” Stiles consults his walls. “Marketing. Hey, how much do you know about female serial killers? I’m thinking our profile needs a revamp.”

\---

Scott is currently avoiding Allison, under the assumption that maybe if he doesn’t talk to her, he won’t have to think about the last time he saw her or what he’s learned since then. It’s not working so well. They passed in the hallway this morning, and when she tried to catch his eye, he ducked away and hid in the restroom. It’s probably not behavior befitting an FBI agent, but he’s undercover, he can get away with it. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, or why he’s acting so skittish.

Scott had... disguised the truth in his report on victim number three - Matt Daehler, junior account manager in the PR department - and just mentioned seeing him leave the building and head east away from the business district. He doesn’t know why he did that, why he felt the need. He doesn’t want to examine what that says about himself. He wants more time; time to figure out what he’s going to do, and to figure out if he has to do anything at all. He could be totally wrong.

Yeah, says the traitorous voice in his head, but when was the last time your instincts were wrong?

\---

Scott spots Allison across the room at the party Thursday evening. They haven’t spoken since last Thursday night, but that’s about to change given how intently she’s walking towards him.

She opens with, “You’re avoiding me and I don’t know why.”

He starts to fumble through some excuse, but she’s right and he doesn’t really know what to say. ‘I’m an FBI agent and I think you might be involved in a string of serial killings stretching back two decades,’ doesn’t sound like it would go over too well. So Scott just kisses her. It’s so stupid, and so reckless, and just completely ridiculous, but Allison is kissing back and Scott doesn’t really care about the rest of it in that moment.

Allison kisses the corner of his mouth as she pulls away. “That was dumb,” she says, right as he’s about to say the same thing.

He laughs. “I know how you feel.”

Allison scans the room quickly, and then turns back to him. “Let’s get out of here.”

Before Scott can blink, she’s leading him out of the building and towards her apartment. Scott really shouldn’t go with her, but he can’t pull out of her grip without being rude. He knows he’s justifying, but he can’t really bring himself to care.

Allison’s phone buzzes, and she glances at it quickly before scowling. It buzzes twice more before ringing.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I have to…” she answers the phone, “Not now, Mom.”

Scott can’t hear what her mom says, but then Allison snaps, “It’s really none of your business,” and hangs up.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s just go.”

She tugs him back to her apartment at a speed that’s nearly a run, and her hands are shaking when she unlocks the door. She kisses him again once they’re inside, just as hurried as their pace. He pulls back.

“Look, Allison, there’s something I really ought to tell you.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, um, you first.”

“No, no, you go.”

Scott sighs. “Alright. I’m not actually working in Marketing. I’m an FBI agent, we’re investigating the recent murders. And I don’t - well, I don’t want to think you’re involved, but...”  
Of all the responses Scott was expecting, laughter wasn’t one of them. Allison starts laughing so hard she can’t stand up and slumps onto the sofa.

“Ummm…”

“I’m sorry,” Allison gasps between bursts of laughter. “It’s really not funny at all.”

Scott sits down cautiously beside her as she tries to gather her composure.  
“It’s just - well, I have to tell you now, don’t I? I know who’s doing the killing.”

Scott freezes. “Really?”

She nods. “And I know who did the ones ten years ago, and the ones ten years before that. It’s a family thing, you see.”

Scott ought to call for backup. He ought to take Allison into custody. He ought to do a lot of things. What he actually does is lean forward.

“Allison, what are you saying?”

Instead of answering him, Allison leans up and kisses him again. He loses himself in it for a long moment, but he’s so close to answers, and he needs to get them, needs to figure out exactly what is happening here. He pulls back and repeats the question.

“I was nine when my mom started, then my aunt picked up the work, and now it’s my turn.”

Scott’s heart is pounding. “But why?”

“Because the world is better without some people in it.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asks, locking eyes with her.

She looks away before answering in the affirmative.

“You don’t. I can tell. Look, Allison, you’ve got to stop. You - I don’t know if I can get you off, but if you stop things will be easier. We could just leave. I could- we could forget this ever happened.”

She shakes her head. “I have to keep going. It’s the family business, like I said. I have to show them that I can do this.”

Scott doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to respond. Allison isn’t laughing anymore.

“So, how does this end?”

“I think that’s up to you.”

Allison stands up and gets them both glasses of water. Scott sips his slowly, aware somehow that when he finishes it whatever they had will be over. He takes the last swallow and moves to leave.

“I understand if you have to turn me in. I hope you don’t, but I understand.”

Allison kisses Scott sadly, one last time, before she shuts the door. Scott stands in the empty hallway, unsure where to go. He doesn’t know the city all that well, but he knows there’s a green space not far from here.

He heads that direction, the city to his left and the river on his right. He can’t think about any of it right now, every thought he has just bounces around for a little while before he shoves it away, not sure if he’s unwilling or unable to deal with it.

He finds a bench and sits down. The park is quiet in the evening air, streetlights glowing in the slight fog off the water. His phone rings, interrupting the stillness. It’s Lydia’s ringtone, so he ignores it. He’ll get in trouble tomorrow, but he can’t talk to her, not right now. The problem is, it’s all so easy to justify, and Scott tries not to be that person. He knows, logically, that the world isn’t black and white, but there are some things…

His phone rings again, startling him out of his thoughts. It’s Stiles’s ringtone this time, and Scott knows from experience that he won’t take no for an answer. He picks up after the third ring.

“Hey buddy. Lydia’s looking for you.”

“Yeah, she called me.”

“Oh. No luck at the party then?”

“Not really.”

“Well, we knew that was a long shot anyway. Come back to the hotel, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Scott heads out into the night, and the fog closes behind him.


End file.
